Fairytale
by TurquaTortle
Summary: "I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts."/ late night angst drabble.
1. I'm in love with a fairytale

**AHAHAHAHAHAHA IM ON AN ANGST ROLL WITH LACK OF SLEEP TRY AND STOP MEE IM SORRY IF YOUR HEART DOESNT HURT I TRIED**

 **THIS PROBABLY MAKES NO SENSE BUT I WROTE IT WHILE I WAS HALF ASLEEP BASICALLY THEY HAD A THING GOINGG ON EARLIER IN THEIR LIFE BUT NOT ANYMORE EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE SO MUCH LINGERING FEELINGS AND SELFLESSNESS AND INABILITY TO DEAL WITH FEELINGS IS STOPPING IT AND JUST AHA im so sorry for this waste of time omg**

 **anyways thank you for reading, this is mainly based on a story one of my very talented friends wrote, about a girl, seventeen, who's close friends were an assassin assigned to protect her through wishes of her father, a pyscho who has mental issues, and she keeps him sane, and a prince. All are irrevocably infautated with her, and she was in love with the prince, but it wouldn't work out because of her selflessness.**

 **and a song by Alexander rybak (he's unbelievable with his violin!):**

 **"Years ago, when I was younger, I kinda liked a girl I knew. She was mine, and we were sweethearts, but that was then...and this is true. I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts! I don't care if I lose my mind; I'm already yours!"**

* * *

She was looking after Duchess Adelaide's daughter when it happened. The child was bored, and when she asked her what would be amusing in her eyes, the child replied that she would love to know a story. But not just any story, she said as they were seated on a large blanket on the dewy grass, sheltered from the Suns harsh rays by the trees. She demanded a story that actually happened in her life.

The woman in her early twenties raised an eyebrow at the small girl, after all, she was just a musketeer. Aside from the occasional mission, nothing was really that exciting in her life. And then she noted something, the child begged for a romance story, not minding if it lasted a day.

Oh how Corinne wishes that Aramina, an expert on story telling and romance, were on duty instead of her. But as the Kings personal guard, there were some predicaments you had to deal with.

"Please!" The little girl with ivory flowers tucked in her braids who went by the name of Violet, pleaded. "And besides, I'm a total stranger! You wouldn't have to worry about me telling any soul at all! I just come and go, you wouldn't have to deal with the stress of someone you _know knowing this_ because strangers forget in a day!" She exclaimed, clasping her hands as she looked up at the older woman in pink with large, pleading green eyes.

Then she flopped back, rather ungracefully, onto the blanket protecting them from grass stains as she slung an arm over her eyes. "I just need something to keep me entertained while my mother talks to your king!"

Quirking an eyebrow at the rather mature explanation a little girl gave her, a small smile crept over her cherry tinted lips and she relented. "Alright. You want to know about romance, right?"

Eyes snapping wide open, Violet jumped to her feet before nodding eagerly as Corinne chuckled, knowing that she was going to regret it in two days. "Alright, sit down." She then took a breath, reminiscing about her earlier days as she cast a brief glance at the castle and how it's towers almost threateningly cast shadows over the courtyard during the evening as the sun lurked about the horizon in a dark ombré of orange and pink. She almost let out a laugh; it was just a story, one that happened in her life. It wasn't like she would be punished by fate for letting some of her past slip by, right?

"Years ago, when I was younger, seventeen to be exact," She began, promptly chewing on her upper lip in thought as violet laid back, an expression of awe and excitement on her face, she was going to hear the love story of a musketeer! A musketeer meant catching damsels and doing princess dips on those boys, and sometimes even rescuing them! How amazing would that be?

"I kind of liked a boy I knew." Corinne slowly added as her small companion let out a squeal before timidly clamping a hand over her mouth, encouraging her to continue. The older woman looked away from the large building in front of them, playing absentmindedly with some lint on her uniform. "He was mine," She spoke in a soft voice just loud enough for the younger girl to hear, as if it was an embarrassment she had done bad.

She raised her head with a faraway, longing look crisscrossing in pale blue streaks in her eyes. "And we were sweethearts." She looked back at Voilet, wondering if she had bore her to death, and softly chuckled when she looked absolutely amazed just by that one sentence. The innocence and naivety made her remember back when just shy of three years ago, she had been the same, clueless to the disasters do of the world and just living her dream, laughing whenever the newly crowned king would purposely press his lips to the back of her hand whenever she was about to shake it.

As a sigh passed her lips, she sadly looks at the younger girl, shrugging. "But that was then," Violets face fell, as she sat straight from where she was lying on the ground, chin propped up on her hands as her elbows rested on the soft blanket, legs swinging idly behind her. She looked absolutely distraught as Corinne chuckled, remembering how her own heart dropped once upon a time. To make sure the younger girl didn't think she was making it up, she tapped her nose and said, "And this is _true."_

With wide eyes, the younger girl scooted closer to her, whispering in her ear. "Are you still in love with him?" As if it was a secret. And truth be told, it felt like one she would keep.

Nodding her head wistfully with a dejected smile, Corinne spoke. "Still in love with a fairytale? Yeah." She breathed the last part out as the younger girl gave her a sad look and wrapped her arms around her.

"Does it hurt?" She asked, pulling away.

"Sometimes." The older woman shrugged. Another breathy chuckle passed her lips as she looked back at the castle, the windows reflecting a slight pink glow as a chilly wind blew by, taking her back to when she was a naive young girl, simply trying to train a king that made her weak in the knees from laughing at the things he said, once even dropping her sword and leaning back on the outer walls of the castle as she tried to regain her breathing while the young man simply leant on his sabre, a playful smile on his face.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm going to lose my mind." She commented as the memory of their brief flirtings as they fenced came back into mind. She wished she could say that there was never a day where she didn't have a witty come back to every smooth sentence her old flame said, but there were more than one times where she had been rendered speechless by the compliments and praise.

Especially the one time he took her speechlessness as an advantage -that little _cheat-_ and had bested her in a duel, kicking the weapon out of her hand while trapping her hand with his own one behind her back as the cold metal of his sabre barely touched her collar- threateningly- while the king behind her grinned the charming, briefly arrogant, grin that made her smile and roll her eyes. Along with the teasing line of " _What do we say when we lose a duel, my lady?"_

Taking a knowing glance back at the palace, Violet smiled knowingly, tossing her hair that wasn't in a crown braid over her shoulder before giving the older woman a look. "It's the King, isn't it?" She said, her smile widening when the other girls face blanched. She laughed. "I honestly don't see how you're surprised, miss Corinne." She politely stated.

Corinne frowned. She had only said three sentences to the girl about the 'love story' she desired to keep the young girl entertained. Violet sent her an assuring smile. "I see the way you look there, and the way you kept blanking out. And I think that you should talk." She advised, before sending her a sheepish grin. "I'd like to know how my favorite love story ends if we ever come back to France."

Corinne stared at the thirteen year old girl in wonder at the maturity of her mind, before she smiled, wholeheartedly. "Sure, duchess." And then her eyes widened as if realising something important. "The meeting should be over by now." She said, staggering to her feet as she offered a hand to the young girl, who hesitantly took it.

"I don't think we have enough time to clean up before they're done!" She said, hands flying to her face in regret. The older girl waved her off, stating that she would clean up before they rushed back into the castle just before the pinks in the sky disappeared into swirls of purple and blue.

Rushing up the gateway steps and past the fountain, they barely made it outside his Majesty's office just a few collective minutes before he and Duchess Adelaide emerged through the door, in deep conversation about a grand festivity and biding each other farewell with hopes of meeting each other soon. The duchess sweetly grasped her daughters hand once more before biding them both thanks and heading for the carriage that lay outside the gates.

Once they left past the doors, the king turned towards the large glass window that gave a overview of where their carriage was, not even sparing the woman a glance as he said, "I saw the picnic." In a clear voice, a casual expression on his face as he started out the window, an amused smile on his face before he cast a brief glance over at the confused woman. "Maybe you should try a more subtle approach? One where I don't have the perfect view of my personal guard sneaking the duchess' daughter into the courtyard and spoiling her with chocolate truffles?" He suggested, snorting slightly when the female guard began spluttering about-

"As if _you_ know what subtlety even _means!"_ She exclaimed, gawking as she walked up to him, hands on her waist just above the belt her sword hung from with a challenging yet insulted look on her face, referring to the multiple times he had done acts such as pecking the back of her hand or openly referring to her as " _My lady"_ during various times in public or when he just wanted a cheap way out of fencing. Little cheat.

"I rather enjoy the company of the element of surprise." And suddenly, there's the tip of a sabre being pointed at her, _teasing_ her. "Don't you?" And with the quirk of his eyebrows, a glimmer of recollection in his eyes with a charming smile and chivalrous personality, she snorts and pulls out her own one, locking it with his one as she uses their weapons and tugs him impeccably close, taunting him.

"There weren't much times you could beat me at _this._ " She drawls out. "No matter how many times you try and cheat your way out." She says with a knowing smile.

A look of dramatic offense appeared on the Kings face, and with the slightest tilt of his sabre, he's leaning closer than he thought he did. "I would hardly call that _cheating."_ His voice is authoritative, though his face is dramatically, tauntingly, teasingly holding an expression of ' _Oh? How is that so?'_ He placed his free hand on his chest in mock offense. "It wounds me that you would think such." He says, expression reverting back to normal.

"Oh _please."_ Corinne seethed, attempting to knock his weapon out of his hand easily before he managed to halt the movement with a simple flick of his wrist, giving him the advantage as with that small pull, she lurched forward, stuttering as her speech of " _I'm the best on your force-"_ she yells out the last part, the weapon almost slipping out of her grasp as she mentally curses for teaching him the simple, yet effective tactics.

Blowing out an annoyed breath, she unlocks their swords and steps back in a prepared stance, continuing the sentence she was saying while she got cut off, ignoring how a ballroom wasn't the best place for a duel. "I'm the best on your force," She continues, a cold expression on her calm face as she tried blocking out the things that happened years ago because _what happened years ago was meant to be kept back years ago._ "What makes you think you can beat me, easily, Majesty?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow, shamelessly showing off her title as _best on the force._

"Well," he began, taking a slow stride while twirling his weapon slightly. "I don't see how I _can't_ beat you," He raised his sword, blocking a hit as he almost laughed at the irony; a guard was supposed to _protect_ him from these things, yet he found it amusing when her temper brought her even close to snapping. "After all," He casually remarked. "You were the one that trained me, were you not?" And he steps forward, changing his position slightly and he catches on to the slightly rusty movements from his old flame in surprise.

"Yes, but-" Corinne raised her sword to block a hit, a smart move she wishes she hadn't taught him while deep down she actually adored how he remembered the precision. "You spent most of it kissing up to let me give you your breaks." She stated, implying at how he slacked, almost laughing.

"Agreed, but-" The sound of sharp metal in the air rung around the ballroom faintly as their weapons locked in an x shape. "You still fell for it, did you not?" Louis asked, the grip faltering a bit as he stared at the woman with pure curiosity as the naivety from his younger days returned in his eyes, almost anxiously as something in the back of his mind asked whether he was truly burdening his former flame at that time.

As if recognizing the fear in his expression, Corinne's movements faltered for a moment as she unlocked their swords, idly placing the tip of hers on the marble underneath her feet while the other returned it to the scabbard at his waist. "Who am I to deny the orders of a king?" She replied evenly a moment later.

A distraught expression was etched on Louis' face as he peered at the momentarily emotionless guard. "They weren't orders and you _know that."_ The soft, genuine, _adoring and overall assuring_ tone of his voice caused a harsh tug at the others heartstrings.

Almost robotically, she returned her weapon back to her waist. "Very well, then." She muttered under her breath, looking lost for a moment before holding her hand out stiffly. "Fine duel, Majesty. Though you need to work more on your focus and blocks." She stated in a professional voice as Louis gripped her hand with a confused frown, hesitantly letting go after a moment as a light dimmed in his eye.

"...And to you..as well." He slowly stated, caught a bit off guard at the sudden change as he gave a curt nod before the other walked off to help in the kitchen as he stared in confusion, disbelief, and with utter yearning as his heart ached, missing the moments where nothing of that sort happened, and it was all fun and casual.

A sigh escaped him.

Cons of being in love with a fairytale; there would always be a plot twist preventing the happily ever after. And in his case, it was selflessness that prevented him from his. Ironically, it was selflessness from _her_ when it was one of the moments he wished she were _selfish._

He still remembers the very thing she said, two years ago.

" _You have dreams, and I won't let you give up everything you want."_

Ironically, she was all he needed and wanted.


	2. Teenagers in love

**Prequel to Fairytale, based on the song "Secret Love Song" by Little Mix :)**

 **Because Fairytale as it was wasn't angsty enough, and this is mainly inspired by some of my favorite commenters and writers, Emsee-Lynn, WeatherBug02, LastingViolet, PrincessGeekelle, Decembra1998 and Keelykelly :)**

 **"Everytime I see you, I die a little more. Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls; it'll never be enough."**

* * *

As bashful as he was, he had no problem with being the chivalrous Prince Charming his tutors always said he should be. He was raised to be as Charming as he was courteous and he had no problem with that. After all, it wasn't much; just a few kisses to the back of his fair maidens hand, and the occasional compliment alongside a congratulation on yet another mission complete and a job well done.

Sue him; he was a teenager in love. And when in love, sometimes comments such as " _You look beautiful, lovely as ever."_ May slip out on accident in public, or even in the presence of someone. Sometimes it wasn't even the compliments, as he almost _always_ accidentally referred to her as _"My Lady."_ Or even _"Lady Corinne."_ And sometimes when he visits the training grounds for an early morning converse with Treville, it's like the old man always knew that he wasn't the only one the young man enjoyed seeing within the musketeers.

But then again, it was obvious. It was obvious from the way he _thought_ he could subtly steal a glance at his lady, but even if it wasn't caught by the others, Treville always knew. It wouldn't necessarily be in hopes that their gaze would meet, nor would it be that she was already staring at him, but he'd glance, or stare, whichever fit more in their vocabulary, in pure admiration. It was always her that could put up an oblivious front around people, but when they were together; be it miles above ground, or even alone in the hallways, her look would always soften into fondness. It made the young Kings heart flutter that that certain look; how it was reserved for him. And only him.

And then it started becoming more obvious. Even in public there would almost always be a stolen moment, whether it was a brief brush of their hands and how they locked their fingers together for a second too long, or how whenever patrol was over or when they came back from a mission, overseas or not, he would always find a way to greet her with the love he attempted to conceal, it didn't usually work as he, on several accounts, had ended up in some fantasy and in a moment of forgetfulness, he would place a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, and after a small laugh, she'd change the position so that it would look like they were shaking hands. But there would always be someone that saw.

And that was the downfall, really.

There was no kiss, nor handholding or any physical contact at all.

Just one loving, adoring, enamoured and and overall captivated stare from the King was all it took for it to go downhill.

But sue him, he was a teenager in love.

How could a simple stare be the downfall of a love? Simple. Rumors. And as adored as the female Musketeers were, they had people craning their necks at them every second of everyday trying to get a juicy story for a rumor and their privacy was beginning to be invaded. But it was nothing illegal, close, but not quite. So they had to keep their mouths shut. It vexed the blonde trapped in the midst of it all.

To make it worse, the King hadn't been as interested nor devoted to his inventive ways as he had been bent on devoting as much time as he could to spend with her. That vexed her as well. He had dreams, she remembers one balloon ride ages ago where he was in his own fantasy world, excitedly rambling on and on about the adjustments he could make on his balloon; perhaps add a door to the wicker basket, and then he went on rambling about technical work and she couldn't have remembered it if she had tried.

He had dreams and the ability to do wonderful things for the world. Yet he had discarded the time he organized to spend on it just for a few more minutes with his lady.

But sue him, he was a teenager in love.

She didn't like that.

Of course she was grateful for the time she spent with the man that had caused Stockholm syndrome for her heart after capturing it, of course she was grateful for the attention because a busy man such as him wouldn't have much time as he was juggling meetings, ruling a kingdom, keeping taxes as adequate and beneficial for both parties as he possibly could while negotiating terms of trade with different countries, and making time for his love. How could she not be grateful?

But what she wasn't grateful for was how he pushed aside things he wanted to do, things that could be great, things that he had set his heart to, just to talk to her about whatever. She loved the attention, yes. But she would have preferred if he divided his time so that he could also focus on what he loved doing, inventing.

Soon it began to bother her to her breaking point, and that's where it plunged in a downward spiral.

She decided to end it.

He pleaded to know why, and before she could tell him, he had said, or questioned, why he couldn't say that he was in love, along with a remark on how he desired to shout it from the rooftops.

" _I wish we could be like that."_ She had sorrowfully whispered.

" _Why can't we be like that?"_ He asked, pleading. " _I'm yours."_

So it broke her heart to the point where she couldn't tell him the real reason. So she did the next best thing; she lied. And it was over, but the feelings would linger. It was undoubtedly unavoidable.

But she put on a smile, and when her friends asked what happened, she lied again.

She was breaking inside, but the guarantee of her friends privacy and her former flame devoting his time to what really mattered made it worth it. Or so she tried convincing herself, even though here would be certain moments in which she wishes to go back in time and shout it from the rooftops and get it over with to avoid the things happening at the time.

But sue her, she was just a selfless teenager in love.


	3. Clouds 1 out of 2

**Alternate ending/ sequel for Fairytale? Heck yeah. 1/2**

 _ **"Love is never ever simple."**_

 _ **"Someday you're gonna see the things that I see, you're gonna want the air that I breathe, you're gonna wish you never left me."**_

 _ **-**_ **Clouds.**

* * *

 **CLOUDS**

It was almost continuous. If they were in the same area, there would be brief chatter, _formal_ chatter, and a momentary recollection of their short term relationship. And every time, they both thought _here we go again,_ as there would mostly be banter instead of a conversation if there weren't many people around.

It was _almost_ continuous. _Almost._

Up until a ball that had taken place a few months before, in which the British King, _Charles II,_ who was also the monarch of Scotland and Ireland, had remarked how the Parisian monarch had not been married, despite being in his early twenties, just shy of twenty three. When the young man had simply replied with a cover up of _no particular reason_ for remaining unmarried, everything had gone downhill.

And that's when Charles had begun sending fair dames of nobility, saying that should something happen, there should at least be a Queen to rule.

To be blunt, the thought made Louis' stomach churn. It made it twist this way and that. It made him extremely nauseous and uncomfortable.

He definitely regretted saying no particular reason instead of _there was already someone in mind, someone who despised me quite much._ Then again, the latter would have been disastrous as well.

He needed to clear his mind, he decided, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on one of his books; the one with all his adjustments on his balloon, to be specific. He chewed on the side of his lip in thought. He really needed to avoid letting down two kingdoms and one ruler, he also desperately needed to clear things up with Corinne.

It was pathetic, one could say; two years had passed since what they had ended, but with every passing day he was just falling harder, and it hurt. Physically and mentally, it was really doing damage to his well being. Perhaps she was the human embodiment of poisoned sweets. Something lovable, something one would crave, yet also poisonous, but a slow, torturous death instead of a quick painful one.

It was the pain that clawed his heart, left it burning, yet also the same one that kept it beating.

Louis decides he hates the science behind love.

Louis decides he hates how he fell in love.

Louis decides he hates how couldn't fall _out_ of love.

Louis decides he hates a lot of things.

He sighed, resting his forehead against the cool wooden surface as the sunlight streamed through the windows, he also hates how Corinne thought that them not being together would dismiss that feeling in his chest that makes him at a loss for words, has his heart beating as if he had run for two hours at the pace of a racing horse, and makes him melt in admiration all the time and turns his brain into alphabet soup; jumbled and disorganized.

Treville enters his study after a quick, brisk knock on the large doors of his study. He informed him of all the recent changes made on the Musketeer force, the recent thieves caught, and so forth. Clearing his throat, he added, "And Renèe Dumas will be getting married in three months, she told me to hand you this invitation."

Louis' throat suddenly dried as he stared up at the elder man in disbelief. "M-married?" He choked out. When the girls first became musketeers they couldn't possibly have been any older than eighteen. Then it struck him; the woman was old as he, and that five years had actually passed by that quickly. He gingerly accepted the crisp envelope. "Ah...yes." He nodded his head, frowning. He would definitely need to talk to her friend sooner. He flashed the Captain a smile. "Please pass my congratulations to her." He requested, standing to his feet and adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, fancy clothing could sometimes be rather uncomfortable, constantly twisting this way and that.

He briefly ignores how he wishes he could be a normal person living in the city; with light and simple clothing and a simpler life. He inwardly scowled at himself, ashamed for not being grateful to live a financially simple life.

Just as Treville reached the door, Louis called out, staring at the window in thought. "Oh, and Treville?" His mind told him not to do it, but his impulse and it's ally, the heart, argued, saying he would regret it even more. His mind brought up the fact that it was risky, rumors would fly like arrows. His heart protested, claiming it needed to be done.

The Captain raised an eyebrow, pausing. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

He smiled, an idea forming in his mind, the pieces to making it foolproof fitting it all together like a puzzle as his smile turned into a charming grin. "Could you tell your best musketeer to meet me in the courtyard?"

Treville nodded, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he smiled back, bowing briefly. "Will do, Sire." He said before exiting as Louis continued staring out the window, staring at the abandoned balloon, the wicker basket looking incredibly tiny from his view as he stared at the fluffy white clouds adorning the cornflower blue sky, his plan needed to work. He really needed it to work. It had to work.

So, less than thirty minutes later, after tripping and almost falling down a set of stairs in his haste, he had been pacing around the pavilion, nerves as jumbled as his brain was, fingertips cold, even though it was the middle of spring, despite the ever growing grin on his face despite the nervousness creeping in his bones.

He looked back at the inflated top of the balloon, held down by a few ropes, with a a grin that faltered within seconds as he reminisced about the past five years with a wistful sigh.

"Is _this_ the only reason you requested my presence, your majesty?" A bewildered voice called out a few feet behind him. He turned around with a small smile, the slight tinge of casualty arising a bit of hope in him.

He shrugged slightly, holding a hand out. "For old times sake?" He asked hopefully.


End file.
